


Lost and Found

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-20
Updated: 2005-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:58:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once in Atlantis, where even critical emergencies had to be ranked minor, major, grave, Rodney found that if he didn't write it down, it didn't happen. Everyone knew that, everyone respected that, and it had been a near flawless system.  So why was there a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to devo, JiM, Ophelia and the Zulu, you guys rock! Spoilers through to Conversion.

Rodney had never needed a to-do list before. If he could prove unreal wormhole theorem before lunch and correct the shifting value of ZPM subspace degradation by mid-afternoon, he could remember to pick up his laundry. His low blood-sugar kept him in constant awareness of having to eat, and coffee kept his sleep regulated to when he could afford to collapse.

Once in Atlantis, where even critical emergencies had to be ranked minor, major, grave, he found that if he didn't write it down, it didn't happen. Everyone knew that, everyone respected that, and it had been a near flawless system, up until he had forgotten to write down "acquired helmeted boy-genius on prison planet".

He supposed it wasn't entirely his fault. If Eldon had managed to survive on a prison planet for years by not drawing attention to himself, he could have disappeared entirely in Atlantis's halls. He would have, too, if it hadn't been for a routine sweep of life-forms double-checked against all Atlantian personnel and Athosian guests.

The results came up plus one.

Rodney ran the test again, without Elizabeth asking him to, just to make sure it wasn't a result of him being up all night with the faulty alarm system. He ran the subprogram that listed the rank-and-serial numbers of the known bodies. "Here," he said, tapping the sole body located in the eastern docks.

"Do we know for certain it's not a wraith?" Elizabeth asked, over his shoulder, but the pulsing white light obviously didn't tell her any more than it told him.

"Um, no?" Rodney asked.

Elizabeth tapped her radio. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Dr. Weir. Will you gather your team and investigate the eastern docks for a possible hostile stowaway?" She nodded to herself, twice. "Thank you, Colonel. I'll tell him," she said, and turned to him, with a slight smile. "He requests your presence, Rodney."

"I--" Rodney began, not even knowing which of the twelve things piled on his desk had priority to request dispensation this once, but Elizabeth had already turned away, and the potential of the ironic being-sucked-to-desication-within-transporter-range-of-his-bedroom death was almost preferable to listening to Kavanagh's extensive, annotated twelve-page report that detailed the overnight shift in which nothing really happened, as weird as that still was to him. "--be right down."

He was alone in the room. "So, I'll, uh, be going now," he finished, and left the control room.

John was already good to go, as were Teyla and Ronon. Rodney just put his vest on over his uniform and strapped on his nine-millimetre. That was also something he also had to become accustomed to. Guns had always offended him as a Canadian, but now it was all a matter of degrees, he decided. At first he could wear one as long as he only shot at Wraiths, then he had to open his definition to any time his life was in danger. He was currently working on an equation that equalled proactive-self-defence to the-bastards-had-it-coming, which, when he gave himself enough time to think about it, he blamed it on too many Americans rubbing off on him.

John was leaning over to tie his boots, exposing a thin line of white skin over his pants and where his vest had bunched his black T-shirt and he suddenly wished his brain didn't have to take everything so literally.

"Rodney, you with us?" John asked, snapping his fingers.

Rodney looked up, and realized Ronon was already in the transporter and Teyla at its door. "Sorry, just thinking about...gun control," he said.

John smiled at him, briefly, before turning away. "You know what they say, when they outlaw Wraith stunners..."

Rodney followed him out. "They'll have their life-sucking hands, dart-beams and remarkable regeneration powers?" he finished.

"Something like that, yeah."

"Who's they?" Ronon asked, as Rodney pushed the button.

John was still explaining rhetorical questions as they arrived, and by explaining, Rodney meant John was still shrugging and was half way through saying, "You know, them," as the transporter door opened. Ronon shrugged the way he always did when John talked about pizzas or Chewbaccas, and they stepped out into the hall, ready to be killed, maimed or infected in a unique and no doubt dramatic way.

The smell of the brackish water, combined with the smell of waste coming from the nest of mattresses and damp blankets made Rodney's eyes water. "It's not a Wraith," Ronon announced from the doorway.

Rodney wasn't fooled. 'Not a Wraith' did not equal 'not a danger' in his head, even as the rest of them put their small arsenal away. The leather-covered head looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't until Eldon put his hands up and squeaked, "Don't shoot, it's me, Eldon, you said I could come with you, you promised!" that the memory twigged. The boy hadn't looked great in the colony, but after three weeks of scrounging around in the dank docks, he looked, and stank, like hell. A very unshaven, haggard, smelly hell.

"Rodney!" John snapped, turning on him. "You forgot Eldon?"

Outrage, pure and scathing, boiled from Rodney. "Me? You're the one who said he could come!"

"I put him in your charge."

"Since when!" Rodney sputtered. He was dimly aware of Teyla going to the boy and bringing him out of the room, and John indicating that Ronon should go with them rather than hang around, but neither of them missed a beat of argument.

"Since...since...since now," John snapped.

"You put him in my charge three weeks ago, since now? How does that even make sense on a grammatical level?"

"I'm not going to stand here and argue with you, Rodney--"

"And yet, that's exactly what you are doing! I've since blown up an entire solar system, Colonel, I had a lot of things on my mind."

"Five sixths, and don't play that card with me. I almost turned into a bug!"

They were arguing to an empty room. Rodney noticed it first, John a second later, but they remained in each other's faces, John's hot breath touching Rodney's cheek, for a good moment or two. It began as hot blasts, but then slowed to deep, ragged breathing. Rodney hadn't backed down either, and he could smell John's aftershave. He'd toned it down since P3M-736.

"I'm actually running low," John said, voice normal again. He must have seen Rodney inhale. "I'm conserving it."

"Didn't you stock up on Earth again?" Rodney asked. Here was the point where he was supposed to step away. Proper social interaction didn't come easily to him, but he'd always been a quick study, he knew the fight was over, and that they'd both made their point. Still he remained less than half a foot from John, still, oh god, smelling him.

"I forgot to make a list," John's voice had dropped now, down to not quite a growl-whisper.

"You can put in a special request," Rodney said. He knew his eyes were too wide and his mouth was doing the strange jerky thing that his failed-out-of-law-school lab assistant always mistook for the beginnings of a stroke, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Sheppard," Ronon said from the door.

John didn't jerk away like he'd been caught doing something wrong, like Rodney was going to before John steadied him with a hand on his upper arm. It remained there for a good second, before it slung the P-90 back over John's shoulder.  
"Huh," Rodney said, again speaking to an empty room. They waited for him in the transporter, and a second later, they were back in the land of reality. "I'll debrief Elizabeth," John said, holding open the door. Ronon did not deign to inform Rodney where he was going, and Rodney wandered off to his lab.  
He still felt John's hand on him, though.

Kavanagh's report had grown in the three hours Rodney had failed to relieve him. He saw it from the door (it had definitely grown and acquired a table of contents), when Kavanagh's back was turned. Weighing the two options equally, Rodney decided that Teyla might require assistance after all.

*

It turned out Teyla did, in fact, need his help. She stood, arms crossed in the hall, her most reasonable diplomatic face on. "I can assure you, Eldon, that you will be perfectly safe in our cleaning facilities," she said.

Eldon's eyes were wide, but he shook his head, hard enough that his cheeks reacted to his own g-force. "I told you, no."

"Let me," Rodney said. He stepped past them, opening the door with the crystals. "Come on, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Eldon stood by the door cautiously, sniffing his way into the room, but the room, with its tiled walls and floor were empty. Rodney took the grooming equipment from Teyla, including the very long razor blade that didn't look military issue, and shut the door behind him.

"Shower, there," Rodney said, pointing to the wash stations. He passed Eldon the soap and the hand towel. "Just turn it on."

Eldon did, and the sound of water came on. Rodney turned away, to give the boy some privacy, but while the room filled with mist it was cool and the mirrors didn't fog. He turned back around, and Eldon was shivering under the chilly stream.

His natural response, scorn heaped with ridicule, died in his throat when he saw Eldon. He looked just like Hawkings, his old dog when they had found him in the SPCA. Okay, he was a whole lot more naked, but just as filthy and shivering. Rodney wouldn't say that his heart grew ten sizes just then, but a smidgen of pity came over him.

"Oh, for the love of--" he didn't finish, but adjusted the heat on the taps to a more temperate level. Eldon stopped shivering and took the soap again, gratitude obvious on his face, and Rodney bit back the sarcasm. He fetched the shampoo, and Eldon finished the shower and shaved himself.

Teyla knocked half way through, bringing fresh clothes and a towel, and when they both emerged again, Eldon looked a lot more human. He was also a little clingy, but Rodney was still feeling a little warm inside. His bitter personality and cutting tongue would drive Eldon off, soon enough.

"Dr. Weir would like to meet our guest, Dr. McKay," Teyla said, bowing her head, slightly.

"I'll take him," he said, and led the way back to Elizabeth's office.

Elizabeth had been kind enough to send out a spread of food from the mess, and he helped himself. John was sitting across from it, and caught the apple John threw at him. Eldon waited to be invited, and Rodney did so with a wave of his hand. Elizabeth crooked her eyebrow at that, and Rodney sniffed, as though that were enough with his mouth full.

"I want to apologize for forgetting about you," Elizabeth said, once Eldon had sat down the plate of food. He, at least, knew how to use a knife and fork. "This has never happened before."

Rodney covered his mouth and coughed, "Sora."

Elizabeth ignored him.

Eldon didn't stop eating.

"I have to assure you, it's not like us to lose our guests. According to the mission reports, though, you helped my people get home, did you not?"

Eldon nodded again, taking a drink of water, and then swallowed. "Yes. But first I shot them down. He said I could come." He nodded his head to John.

"Well, I'd like to over-look that. I'd also like to help you find a new home, a place where you could be safe and secure."

"He said I could stay," Eldon said, again, motioning to John as though Elizabeth could have already forgotten.

"I did not," John protested. "I said you could come with us through the Stargate. You came through. Deal's done."

"You promised Torrell you wouldn't dump him on some inhospitable planet. You promised, and now you're just going to dump me somewhere horrible."

John opened his mouth to argue. Elizabeth held out her hands. "I promise you we will not be making arbitrary decisions. Until we find a suitable planet that we both agree on, you are more than welcome to stay in Atlantis."

Her politicking continued, soothing down the high emotions of the room, and John was starting to look less defensive. He was certainly well put together, two ears, eyes, proper sized nose to his face. Rodney found himself staring when John's attention was on Elizabeth, but he found nothing in John's face that said he was any more attractive than he had been before he stepped into the transporter.

He wanted more room to work, wishing he had a white board, or at least some kind of spreadsheet. PowerPoint, even, if he wanted to be crassly commercial, and then he heard his name.

"I'm sure Dr. McKay will be glad to make sure your stay is enjoyable."  
"What?" Rodney demanded.

Elizabeth frowned. "When I asked you the first time, Rodney, you smiled and nodded."

He wanted to scream he wasn't smiling and nodding at her, but there was no way he could. "Of course," he said, weakly.

He came out of the meeting with two irrefutable truths. One, there was no earthly or non-earthly reason as to why he should not have sex with John Sheppard. Two, Elizabeth Weir did not play fair.

*

"There is no earthly or non-earthly reason as to why we shouldn't have sex," Rodney announced from John's door frame. "Can I come in this time?"

"Can we discuss the order of importance to your questions?" John asked, coming off the bed. Rodney had already put Eldon to work, cleaning off his desk and such, which the boy took to with an such over-eagerness that it bordered on pathetic. It probably bought him an hour or so of free time.

"If that works for you," Rodney said. He was still feeling generous.

"Aren't you missing a few steps?" John asked.

"Like what? I find your smell compatible."

"That's it?"

"What more do you want, graveyard dirt and a reading from entrails? This is biology, not science."

"How about the thrill of the chase?" John wasn't truly being serious. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and the edges of his mouth were two seconds away from smiling.

Rodney picked up a sheet of paper and crumpled it into a ball. "Go get it, boy," he said, and tossed it away.

They both watched the ball roll half way across the floor and then stop. "Well, I'm thrilled enough," John said, standing up.

Rodney beamed. He straightened as well, crossing the floor to him, close enough to feel John's warmth. John put his hands on Rodney's wrists, holding them tighter than Rodney was accustomed to but he wasn't exactly complaining, and then he smiled.

"Do you want I should--"

"What do you--"

"Doctor McKay, if you could come to the lab--"

"Colonel Sheppard to the medical lab, please."

The three other voices took a moment to sort out in Rodney's head, and then he started to laugh. John held out his finger to him, as though that were enough to contain the ridiculousness of the situation and he acknowledged into his radio.

"Just...just...hold that thought," John said, "I'm off on-call at midnight."

That was in four hours. Rodney could wait.

*

For the second time that day, Rodney McKay fell in love. It wasn't the same kind of love, there was no smelling involved, but it was a Lassie-saved-Jimmy-from-the-well-so-she-could-stay-on-the-farm-pilot episode kind of love.

His desk was logical. He didn't mean clean or even organized, because to the trained and untrained eye alike it wasn't either, but the piles had been shifted slightly so that the beauty of its logic stunned him.

He tested it, thinking of the memo Zelenka had sent him two weeks ago regarding the device that might have something to do with the sewer contingency plan, and there it was, mid-way through last week's not truly important immediately pile.

Also, Kavanagh's report was in his outpile already, the whole thing summarized on a sticky note. Not even his largest size of sticky note. They had to vacuum out a light conduit on level four of the tower and the tape supply was running short from the inventory.

Also, someone was yelling at Zelenka, and he had time to go get a coffee before joining in.

"Good morning, gentlemen, what are you wrong about this time?" Rodney asked, coming up beside Eldon and Zelenka as they argued.

"Who is this person, and what is he doing in our lab?" Zelenka demanded.

Eldon looked to him, all big-eyed and puppy dogged, and Rodney smiled at both at them. "This is Eldon," he said. "He's my new assistant."

*

"Assistant?" Elizabeth demanded.

Zelenka hadn't really forgiven him for not relieving Kavanagh all day, which Rodney understood, but he was taking Eldon all wrong.

"You told me to take care of him."

"Taking care of him does not mean put him to work, Rodney."

"It does in my world." He looked over to where Eldon sat on the edge of his seat, eyes wide again out of concern. "Besides, he likes it. Don't you? Don't you, Eldon?"

"You can't talk to him like he's a dog. Tell him he can't talk to him like he's a dog!" Zelenka sputtered.

"No one is talking to him like a dog. You obviously get canines and lab assistants confused," Rodney snapped.

"Oh, I'm not the one confused," Zelenka snapped back.

"Gentlemen. Eldon, if you would please excuse us. We have to...discuss this amongst ourselves."

"You got anything to eat?" Eldon asked, standing up.

Rodney threw him a Powerbar.

Eldon took it and left the room.

"Now he's getting him addicted to Scooby-snacks," Zelenka muttered.

"Do you have something to say to me?" Rodney asked.

"Now you're getting him addicted to Scooby-snacks," Zelenka said, enunciating each word. "On top of all things, perhaps you should be getting your ears cleaned as well."

"Rodney, you can't put someone into a laboratory setting without the proper clearance. You know this," Elizabeth said, carefully. She'd even lowered her voice so that they would have to listen more carefully.

"Do I look like an idiot to you? It's the artifact lab. He doesn't have the gene. The worst he could do is just dust around the doo-hickies."

"What about the classified information?" Zelenka demanded.

"I don't keep my classified documents unlocked and on my desk. Do you, Radek?" Rodney asked, making his voice syrupy sweet.

"No." Zelenka looked as though he wanted to say anything but what he just said, but he said it.

"Well, then it's settled then. You said I could have him, and I want him as my assistant."

"You can have him on a trial basis, Rodney. But if there are any problems, you'll have to bring him back to the pound," Elizabeth said with what could have been called a smile.

"Lab Assistant, Elizabeth. Everyone knows if they don't work out, you have to put them down," Rodney said, and the door closed on Elizabeth asking Zelenka if he thought Rodney was being serious.

By the time they'd gone back to the lab, Eldon was yawning. It made Rodney yawn as well, and he realized through the caffeine rush that he was feeling physically tired. "Well, I suppose that's it for the night," he said.

Eldon didn't move.

Rodney stopped. "Didn't Elizabeth assign you quarters?"

Silence.

Rodney hung his head. "Come on."

Getting a bed requisition at this time of night did not win him any more friends. It must have influenced people, but not all influence was a good thing. With the influx of new people, it wasn't a matter of (a) finding an apartment you liked, (b) opening the door and (c) making sure no one had prior claim to it. If it was occupied, there was always the chance that (d) it couldn't be bought, bribed or blackmailed. Now, there were forms and requisition orders and trips to the 24 hour supply clerk to get blankets and sheets.

By the time Rodney finished, it was dawn out and he was exhausted. Going back to his room was done at a steady stagger, and when he opened the door, he didn't realize he wasn't alone until his face was in John's lap.

"Ow," he said.

"Do you always not look before you flop down?" John asked.

"My bed has never not been there before," Rodney said, holding his jaw. He'd bit down on his tongue and was bleeding. "I was betting on the law of averages." He peered upwards. "How long have you been here, anyway?"

"I could make you feel guilty and say all night."

"I'd check my door logs."

"About fifteen minutes ago. One of the corporals had ingested pollen and was convinced he'd turned into a bat. I had to stay with him all night, feeding him rotten fruit."

Rodney nodded. Earth logic no longer applied, and that made a weird sort of Atlantian sense. "No one had gotten Eldon a room yet."

"No one? You mean you forgot?"

"Yes, yes, if you insist on passing the blame." Rodney's eyes were closed, and he was arguing on pure subconscious skill.

"Go to sleep, Rodney," John said, but his hands were stroking Rodney's hair, and had obviously been doing it for a few times at least.

"Uh-huh," Rodney said, or at least he thought he did.

Rodney woke to the smell of coffee. He reached for it, blindly, and the travel mug was sitting on the table next to the bed, ready to make the shortest line necessary between the insulated chamber and his blood system. Some sort of baked goods sat on a plate waiting for him as well, and they released a pleasant steam into the atmosphere. "Is it too early to marry you?" Rodney asked with a mouth full of muffin, but as he sat up, he realized John wasn't in the room.

"Huh," he said.

He finished the coffee, had a shower, dressed, shaved and grabbed the last muffin to take with him. The door opened slower than it usually did, and Eldon fell back into his room. He looked up, blinking.

"You brought me coffee?" Rodney asked.

Eldon nodded, slowly, waiting.

"Good boy!" Rodney said, and patted him on the head as he walked past. Eldon scrambled to his feet and followed.

Eldon seemed happy to do Rodney's scut-work, which made Rodney happy to provide scut-work to be done.

An email came in around noon from John, asking for his help in a third attempt at fixing their problem, and he took off for lunch a bit early.

The jumper bay opened for him, but then closed and locked behind him. A single light came from the puddlejumper on the bay floor, and the sound of metal on metal came from beneath it.

John's legs were under the jumper, and he slid out from under it as Rodney approached. "Problems?" he asked.

"Regularly scheduled maintenance," John said. "It's like an oil change, only more glowy."

He looked very good, sprawled like that on the floor, and he didn't get up right away. Rodney remained on his feet, unsure for once, and then John was up and beside him. He turned Rodney around against the jumper. Rodney hit, hard enough that it stole his breath for a second, and John kissed him before he had a chance to speak.

Not talking was interesting, too. John broke apart, pulling off Rodney's jacket, and two quick tugs had his shirt off as well. The jumper bay was colder than the rest of the city, and John's warm hands over his chest brought goosebumps to his skin. John's lips were wet, and he licked them again, tongue flashing over his very white teeth.

"Not bad, Rodney," John drawled.

Words jumped to Rodney's own lips. Words, words and more words, but John put his finger over his lips and shushed him. He tried parting his lips, to suck on the finger, but John tapped him on the nose. "You're just going to have to wait."

This wasn't what he'd planned at all. None of this was, but John smiled again, and Rodney leaned back against the puddlejumper. He was no John, but the ship warmed to his shoulders faster than any metal should, and he swore he felt it vibrate.

"Hot, isn't it?" John asked. Rodney didn't know to what he was referring to, but the need to ask him died as, with one hand, John jerked down Rodney's pants. Rodney vowed he'd learn how John learned how to do that, but for now, with the puddlejumper humming behind him and John dropping down to his knees in front of him, he didn't quite care any more.

"Gaaaaah," he said, which apparently was acceptable use of non-English, because John's mouth was over him now, and the wet sound of breathing and skin and tongue and suction and --oh god-- John's hand was cupping his testicles and --oh, oh god-- was that John's uvula? Rodney would have crawled up along side the jumper if he could have, his knees were turning rubbery and his thighs ached with such delicious agonizing -- even his brain was running out of words.

Sweat broke over his shoulders, and John's breath tickled his belly and it was just too much. The rush of heat remained even after John had stood up, and he never realized how erotic a man wiping off his mouth was. How would he ever survive the mess hall again?

"You can say thank you now, Rodney," John said.

"Thank you," he managed, when his brain kicked on again. His brain, the anti-ancient artifact. Although it wasn't John's ATA gene that was turning him on.

John was up against him in the next second, his pants barely down his thighs. Lending a hand was all Rodney's reflexes would allow him to do, but then John's hands closed over his, and that was far more hot than it should have been. Suddenly he was all for Americans rubbing off on him any way they wanted.

John's breathing on his neck, all hot and sticky. Rodney's hand became slick with sweat and more, and by the time he had his breath enough to drop to his knees, John's eyes closed and he shuddered against him.

John's eyelashes against his cheek were wet. Rodney pressed his forehead against John's, supporting his weight until John could do it himself. When John could, and did step away, he licked off his palm.

"Gun control, with enough support from governmental agencies, can, and does work," Rodney said.

John looked at him, eyebrows almost touching, and Rodney pulled his pants back up. "You haven't rubbed off all the way on me."

"I beg to differ. By the way, are all Canadians this exceptionally weird?" John asked.

"Usually, to some degree."

"Ah."

"Ah."

The silence grew. "You going to lose my name recognition algorithm for your radio now?" Rodney asked.

John took a moment to understand his words, and the eyebrows came together again. "What? No! Rodney, what the hell!" John snapped.

Rodney felt his ears pink. An apology came up, but he swallowed it down again.

"The mess hall. Nine o'clock. You'd better be there, McKay. That's a date, and yes, that's an order," John stalked out of the hanger, doing up his pants as he went. It was actually more dignified than it sounded.

Eldon and Zelenka had reached some sort of non-aggression pact when Rodney returned, and the peacefulness in the air lasted until Rodney noticed that the idiot whistling was, in fact, himself.

Zelenka's staring should have been a clue. "What, can't a guy just be happy?" Rodney demanded.

"You can tell him, her or it that we are all thrilled for you," Zelenka said.

"It?"

*

Dinner at nine went fine. Sex at ten, eleven, twelve thirty and two was even better. Zelenka began getting along too well with Eldon, and flagrantly ignored Rodney forbidding them to fraternize. Eldon still brought him coffee in the mornings, but he was also beginning to mutter to himself in Czech.

When Elizabeth called them to the control room almost a month later, Rodney had convinced himself it was something routine. The short men wearing hour-glasses on their heads didn't strike him as odd until they began to speak of their abandoned Ancient outpost on their planet.

"Their chief scientist was taken in a Wraith culling two years ago, Rodney," Elizabeth said, after the greetings had been made.

"How very unfortunate for you," Rodney said, not sure of what else to say.

"They would very much like to meet Eldon. He would have his own lab."

"Eldon? They want my Eldon?"

"Yes, Rodney."

John's hand on his forearm didn't keep his voice from going mulish. "No."

  
"I don't think it's your decision, Rodney," John whispered.

"He would be revered," the first hour-glass man said.

"Me?" Eldon asked.

"I thought we'd all go see the facilities. If they are acceptable, then perhaps Eldon would like to stay," Elizabeth said.

"They can't possibly compare to Atlantis's labs," Rodney snapped.

Once they were on the planet, however, Rodney saw that could, very easily compare. The bunker-like lab had been saved from the worst of the attacks, and the technology, while there was a lot that they had already categorized, had some artifacts Rodney had never seen before.

"Teyla insists they are kind and gentle people," Elizabeth said. "I think you would fit well."

Rodney's mouth twitched.

It was obvious Eldon went in wanting to find fault, but the more he walked around, the more his eyes lit up. "Beckett said if Eldon wants, they will try the gene therapy with him," Elizabeth said.

"The planet's climate is too cold. He'd freeze."

"Says the Canadian," Lorne said.

"Yeah, from Vancouver. We dealt with our polar bear issues years ago," Rodney snapped. "Eldon, you've seen enough, haven't you?"

Eldon looked at him, his eyes once again too wide. He had seen enough. Rodney's mouth twitched again.

John took his arm on the walk back. "Don't worry, Rodney. Eldon is in a better place, roaming free with his kind."

Rodney looked at him. "You are insane, you know that, right?"

They trooped off to the Stargate. Only the hours and hours of sex were of some cold comfort, but in the really hot kind of way.

  



End file.
